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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168560">Hawkeye(s)?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Witch/pseuds/Violette_Witch'>Violette_Witch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Family Issues, Gen, Less of a crossover and more of a meshing together, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, Minor Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Post-Endgame</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:28:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,332</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168560</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Witch/pseuds/Violette_Witch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of End Game Clint has a hard time feeling at home among his family again, thoughts of his life as Ronin plaguing him. Kate Bishop wakes up to find the world drastically changed, and struggles to find her place in it. </p><p>Will Clint be able to forgive himself for what he's done? Can Kate find purpose in a world that doesn't seem to want her anymore? What can they offer each other?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton &amp; Kate Bishop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Back to Normal?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have ideas for the Hawkeye TV show that is in the works (?) and I know they aren't going to do it so I decided to write it myself.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                 Clint Barton helped his wife Laura as she finished setting the table for dinner, although he tried to move through the day normally, he was still in shock after everything that had happened. He still couldn’t believe he was here again, in this house, with his family. It was like nothing had changed, like the last 5 years hadn’t happened.</p>
<p>                Except they had.</p>
<p>                “What are you thinking about, hon?” Laura asked casually, setting the fork down beside the plate Clint had just placed, her hand brushing his arm.</p>
<p>                He blinked and forced a smile onto his face. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he said quickly. “We should call the kids in, before the food gets cold.”</p>
<p>                Laura accepted this answer, but he could tell from her face that she wasn’t done worrying about him. He knew once the kids were in bed she would be at him again, like she had been the past few days, trying to figure out what his life had looked like for the 5 years when they hadn’t existed. When he’d been alone, grieving. When he’d lost his mind. She had allowed him a whole week and a half before the questions started, and now he knew she wouldn’t give up until she got answers.</p>
<p>                He never wanted her to know. He wanted so badly to be the man he’d been when she left; scarred and torn from the things he’d been through, but still good. Still kind. Could he be that again?</p>
<p>                The kids ran into the room, chatting excitedly. Nate and Lila were arguing about something, something childish and petty. Laura rolled her eyes and separated them, scolding Cooper for the tiny portion of vegetables he had chosen for himself. Clint watched it all happen in a daze, like it was some TV show he was watching and not his life, his family. It didn’t feel real, it couldn’t be real.</p>
<p>                He did notice Laura’s worried eyes resting on him frequently as she ate, and he knew Cooper had picked up on his mood as well. Cooper had always been preceptive; he’d inherited his dad’s keen eye, but instead of using it as a weapon he focused on the emotions that he saw. He found ways to help those around him.</p>
<p>                He’d always been a better person than Clint. Clint hoped he always would be.</p>
<p>                “Dad!” Lila said loudly, he got the feeling it wasn’t her first attempt at getting his attention. He blinked and focused his eyes on her.</p>
<p>                “Sorry,” he said, putting on a smile, “what is it?”</p>
<p>                “I was asking,” Lila said, only slightly impatient, “if we could continue my archery lessons after dinner! I’ve been practicing my form,” she pulled her arms up as if she were holding a bow, her right hand up next to her eye.</p>
<p>                Clint smiled at her, crinkling his eyes, though it felt like a mask, “I’m sorry, I don’t think we can today. But soon, okay? Soon.”</p>
<p>                “Why not?” She asked.</p>
<p>                “I’m just …” Traumatized? Terrified of the blood on my hands? Incapable of being normal? “I’m just really tired, sweetie.”</p>
<p>                Lila looked disappointed, but she just shrugged and her attention went back to her plate. Clint avoided eye contact with Laura and Cooper. He cleared his plate and stood to place it in the sink. “I’m gonna head to bed early tonight,” he informed the room in general, then plodded up the stairs to their bedroom.</p>
<p>                He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Laura came to join him. He was lying on top of the covers, still fully clothed and staring at the ceiling. Laura softly sat on her side of the bed, looking down at his face in concern. He wished they would take all their concern and pity and throw it into a wormhole or something.</p>
<p>                She ran her hand over the shaved sides of his head, “y’know,” she said, “I’m starting to really like the new look,” he smirked at her. Her hand moved down to his arm, which was now covered in a full sleeve tattoo. “I’m still not sure about this one though,” she said, tracing the lines of the pattern, “It’ll definitely take some getting used to.”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, sorry about that,” Clint said, sitting up and facing her, “I shoulda asked your opinion before getting something this permanent. Except … y’know,” He smirked. He was aware that he used humor to hide his trauma, somebody had told him that once, but knowing that and changing it were two very different things.</p>
<p>                She smiled, her eyes sad, and caressed his face. He knew it had more wrinkles on it than she was used to. Five years more of them. “So, what brought it on?” she asked, drawing back into a more casual position, “The wardrobe change.”</p>
<p>                He chuckled, “aw, you weren’t here to impress anymore so I thought I’d finally embrace my punk side,”  he ran his hand through his mohawk, fluffing the it back up, “You’re never too old for this kinda look, right?”</p>
<p>                Laura gave him a look that said he might actually be too old for it, but he shrugged it off.  The look might have also meant that she didn’t fully believe him. She knew that there was something big he wasn’t tell her. She also knew about the whole hiding behind humor thing, obviously.</p>
<p>                “So,” she began, her tone still casual but Clint had a feeling this was a start of a new tactic – still trying to get the truth out of him, “where were you living while we were gone?” she asked, “cause from the layers of dust we found on this place I take it you hadn’t been back in a while.”</p>
<p>                “Yeah, my bad,” Clint said, “if I had known you’d been coming back I would’ve kept the place up and running, but I got kinda … busy. I was all over the place.”</p>
<p>                “Doing SHIELD missions?” Laura asked.</p>
<p>                He looked at her, eyebrow raised, “you know SHIELD’s been out of the picture for a while.”</p>
<p>                She shrugged innocently, “I don’t know what’s happened in the past 5 years, they could have resurfaced. Anything could’ve happened and I wouldn’t know, ‘cause you haven’t told me.”  So, she was done beating around the bush. Good. That meant he could just uproot the bush, or set it on fire. Keep her from finding what was inside.</p>
<p>                “Cause you don’t wanna know,” Clint said, he wanted her to believe he was speaking generally, not about himself. “The world was a mess, covered in holes that were impossible to fill. Every government was understaffed, tons of food spoiled on one side of the world while the other side was starving, nobody knew what the world was gonna look like the next day, let alone in a year or two. There’s no story I could tell that you would want to hear.” He knew his tone had gotten too defensive, knew that she would pick up more than he wanted her to from what he’d said.</p>
<p>                “But where were <em>you</em> in this mess?” Laura asked, a pleading tone in her voice that he didn’t think he’d heard before, “I don’t need to know about the politics or the turmoil, but I just want to know where my husband was!” When he didn’t answer she sighed, regaining some composure. “Look, I know you can’t always tell me everything. When you were with SHIELD you would go on top secret missions all the time that I couldn’t know about, and I learned to deal with it. But this isn’t just some mission, Clint,” she gently took his rough hand in her small ones, “This is five whole years, where something happened, something that obviously changed you, and I just want you to talk to me.”</p>
<p>                He looked at her seriously, any attempt at mirth or avoidance slipping away. But he still didn’t give her an answer. He pulled her lips to his and kissed her gently. Then he let her go and fell back.</p>
<p>                “I never thought I’d have you back,” he said.</p>
<p>                He knew she was still upset that he wouldn’t talk, but he didn’t know how to start. How do you tell your wife about the body count you racked up the past five years? How do you admit that losing your family basically drove you mad?</p>
<p>                The answer is, you don’t.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Truth Comes Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Luara finds out the truth about the last 5 years</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What is that?”</p><p>                Clint’s heart beat faster than it had since that day on Vormir, hanging from a chord, his best friend dangling from his fingers. He hadn’t thought a computer screen could have that affect on him, but the sight of his wife, sitting in front of that screen triggered his adrenaline. He wanted to run, far far away, to unmake this scene.</p><p>                The Newspaper article was titled “Ronin: the new Punisher?” and beneath was a blurry photo of him, blade in hand. Of course, there was no way to tell it was Clint, his face was covered, and the photo wasn’t detailed enough to identify him in any other way. But the only reason Laura would be reading that was if she knew. He’d been found out.</p><p>                He took a deep breath. Of course she would find out. He’d been an idiot not to tell her. He was always an idiot so that wasn’t a surprise. He met Laura’s eyes and he wasn’t sure what he saw there. What did he want to see?</p><p>                “So,” he said, after a long moment, “Now you know.”</p><p>                “Clint.”</p><p>                There was something in her voice. Her tone. It reminded him of Natasha. Of the way she warned him not to go down certain trains of thought: after Loki’s brainwash, after the fall of SHIELD, after every difficult mission. The reminder that guilt was a dangerous emotion. The reminder that whatever he had done, she had his back.</p><p>                Except now she didn’t. And he could see in Laura’s eyes that, no matter how much she loved him, this was something she would never be able to understand.</p><p>                “Not knowing … it was killing me,” she admitted finally. “I was imagining so many … horrible things happening to you. I didn’t know if you had been captured, tortured. I mean FIVE years… and the kind of enemies you’ve made … “ she couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. He almost couldn’t fathom it, but it seemed like <em>she</em> felt guilty, for having gone behind his back. She had no reason to, it was her right to know. “Eventually I got in touch with a—a colonel Rhodes? He was working closely with Nat for those five years and … He sent me some files. Things they had used to track you down. He wouldn’t give me details, he said if I wanted to know I’d have to read for myself.”</p><p>                She looked at him then, a kind of pleading on her face. Did she think he could make it go away? Tell her it wasn’t true, or make her forget? What a pity he wasn’t a real superhero, with powers like that. But he was just himself – a guy with impeccable aim, whether with a bow or a sword, he knew exactly how and where to hurt people.</p><p>                “Well,” he said, crossing his arms, extremely aware of the dark tattoo that covered his arm, a daily reminder that he was not who he had been five years ago, “how much did you read?”</p><p>                Laura bit her lip, “I mean … “ Her slow and careful start only make Clint more anxious. “I’ve always known your job was dangerous and … violent. And we decided long ago that it was better if I didn’t know the details.” A heavy pause hung in the air. “I think we were right.”</p><p>                Clint couldn’t help himself. He scoffed. “This wasn’t my ‘job’ Laura. This wasn’t SHIELD, or the Avengers, or anybody, telling me what to do. It was just me. Acting of my own volition. That’s what Ronin means. A warrior without a master.” There was a part of him that said he could reason with her. That he could tell her all the justifications. If he explained, through sobs, how broken he felt when his whole family disappeared. How horribly unfair it was that his babies had been taken when these murderers still lived. She would be able to forgive him.</p><p>                But another part of him was certain that he didn’t deserve that forgiveness. No matter how he justified it, he had become a murderer, just as surely as those he had been out “delivering justice” to. And whoever or whatever he had become did not belong in this tranquil farmhouse, living out a sweet domestic life.</p><p>                Laura’s face was a pattern of complex emotions, her brows furrowed in confusion, her jaw clenched in distress, her mouth pursed in contemplation. Finally, she blurted out “WHY? Clint, what in … what could have led you to do THIS? It says here … so many bodies … I don’t understand.”</p><p>                He pulled up one of the chairs they always had surrounding the computer, straddling it backward, creating a barrier between him and Laura. “You want to understand?” he asked, but he had already emotionally detached himself from the situation. He knew how this conversation was going to end before it even began. “I lost it. Plain and simple. I woke up every morning, and you were still gone. <em>They</em> were still gone. The Avengers – they were done. Tony peaced-out as soon as he got out of the hospital. Said he was through trying to save a world that didn’t want to be saved. Steve, Nat and the others – well, they tried to stay relevant. Putting out fires here and there. But there was no <em>avenging</em> what had been done. No bringing everyone back—you, the kids, Wanda, Barney … So, I lost it.” He carefully maintained eye contact while he told her this, and carefully avoided letting emotion creep into his voice. It was matter of fact. That’s what had happened.</p><p>                Laura blinked and shook her head, backing her chair away slightly. “I … I get that. It must have been horrible. But – Why didn’t you work with Natasha, or---or local law enforcement or—anything? You could have gone back to the circus and that would’ve been better than – whatever this was.”</p><p>                Clint barked out a laugh. He knew that it scared Laura, he wanted it to. “The circus? The world was a circus Laura. It was chaos. And in that chaos, crime was thriving. Nobody could stop it. Hundreds of foul people with no morals, who had, by some cruel trick of fate, survived the snap when thousands of innocent people had dusted. Running amok. Someone had to stop them.”</p><p>                “But Clint,” Laura said, her voice rising, her eyes had switched from pleading to angry. “I know you, you’re smart. You’re … inventive. You could have found other ways to stop them, to get them off the streets. You have all your trick arrows—why use a sword?”</p><p>                He leaned forward, hands gripping the back of the chair in front of him, the light from the computer screen illuminating his face. “Would you believe me if I said that it’s because I wanted to? Maybe I got bored of killing from a distance. Maybe I wanted to see the light leave their eyes.” Please, let her believe that he was crazy. Let her be the one to push him away.</p><p>                Laura set her jaw, shaking her head. “No, Clint, this is not you. I know that you take lives when necessary, but you don’t take pleasure in it.” A slight pause. “At least, you never did before.”</p><p>                Clint let that phrase hang in the air for a moment. Then shrugged. “You said it yourself, I changed while you were gone.”</p><p>                They were locked in a wordless battle for a moment, Clint trying to convince her to hate him as much as he despised himself. Laura, defiantly refusing to condemn him, waiting for him to admit that he regretted his actions, to commit to overcoming this dark period of his life.</p><p>                The soft patter of feet outside the door broke them both away from the staring contest. It was Lila. She slid the door open and stared at them, obviously sensing the tension in the room.</p><p>                “Ummm.. Dad, could you come help?” Lila asked in a voice laced with suspicion. Clint prayed she couldn’t guess the significance of the article still displayed on the computer. He hoped she hadn’t even looked at it. “Coop and I are trying to ---”</p><p>                “Not now Lila, Dad’s busy,” Laura interrupted before Lila could finish.</p><p>                 “But –“</p><p>                “Not. Now.” Laura gave their daughter a pointed look, and Lila sighed, sliding the door closed again and stomping away.</p><p>                “What?” Clint asked, “Don’t trust me around my own children anymore?” <em>Cause you shouldn’t, </em>he thought. Not that he would ever intentionally hurt them, but he knew the scars that came from being raised by someone who was emotionally unstable. He didn’t want them to see him the way he remembered Swordsman.</p><p>                “No,” Laura said, still refusing to hate him apparently, “we’re just not done with our conversation.”</p><p>                He shrugged and waited for her to say more. They sat for another moment in silence.</p><p>                “You obviously need help Clint,” Laura said finally. “Professional help.” Clint scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not like it’s anything new,” Laura insisted, “you were really shaken up after the Battle of New York, but you went and talked to someone and it got better. This is … admittedly, a bigger deal, but I refuse to give up on you Clint.” There was determination in her eyes, mixed with anger. But not the kind of anger he had expected.</p><p>                This was not where Clint had expected the conversation to go. He wanted her to scream at him, to throw things, to demand he leave the house and never talk to her again. That’s what he deserved.</p><p>                He’d been a fool to think he could have his family back.</p><p>                Too bad Natasha had died for nothing.</p><p>                “You should,” Clint said to Laura. “Give up on me,” he commanded, “I have no idea why you put up with all my shit for so many years, but it’s over. You don’t have to care about me anymore. You don’t have to lay awake at night worrying about me. I’m done.” He stood up, pushing the chair aside forcibly and crashing it into the desk.</p><p>                “Clint,” Laura said, and there was anger, confusion, and pleading mixed into her voice.</p><p>                “I don’t belong here anymore.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Kate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kate's life changes in an instant</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                Kate Bishop was 16 years old. Or at least, Kate Bishop had been 16 years old the day her life changed forever.</p><p>                She sat on the stairs in her family’s lavish mansion, listening to her parent’s voices as they argued. It was rare that her mother was home, and Kate had been hoping they would be able to enjoy the time together. Her sister Susan was away on some trip with friends, so Kate wouldn’t have to compete for their mother’s attention. Sadly, her hopes had been disrupted by another disagreement breaking out between her parents. She shouldn’t have been surprised.</p><p>                They would never outright tell her what they fought about. Both of them still saw her as a child, which was infuriating enough. What made it worse was that they thought she hadn’t figured it out already. She knew when her mother disapproved of her father’s “business deals” it wasn’t just some bureaucratic nonsense. She’d seen the men her father met with in dark alleys some nights. She understood every single one of the code words he used when discussing his business. She had a pretty good idea where their wealth came from, and she knew why her mother never wanted to be home.</p><p>                They didn’t know that sometimes Kate would follow her father on his late night escapades. That she had seen him talking with men in masks, people with high tech weaponry. The kinds of people you might call super villains. Maybe she didn’t know the details but it wasn’t hard to figure out that her dad’s business wasn’t the philanthropic endeavor he pretended it to be.</p><p>                She sat on the stairs, grinding her teeth. She wished there was a way out of her situation. A way to start a new life, away from her father’s moral failings and the constant air of contention that permeated the walls of her home.</p><p>                Suddenly, Kate felt a strange tingling sensation, as if her legs had fallen asleep. She closed her eyes for a second, maybe two, and when she opened them the house was silent.</p><p>                And dusty.</p><p>                A layer of dust covered the stairs where Kate was sitting. It seemed to cover everything, as if no one had disturbed it for quite some time. She stared at it, confirming to herself that it had not been there a moment before. She couldn’t think of any possibly explanation for it, but a part of her brain suggested she was tired, and maybe things would make sense in the morning. She stood, planning to head to her bedroom, and stopped at the sound of voices coming around the corner from the upstairs hallway.</p><p>                “I do apologize for the mess,” a woman’s voice said. “We haven’t been able to get a cleaning crew down here yet, but you insisted no more delays. I want you to imagine the floors shining and the colors on the walls bright and exciting. It really was a wonderful sight five years ago and I’m sure we could have it sparkling in no time.”</p><p>                Kate turned, her confusion intensifying and translating to anger within her. Three people turned a corner and came into her view, stopping in their tracks as they saw her.</p><p>                They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then the person at the front of the small group took a defensive step forward. She was dressed in a gray suit, and asked in a fiercely polite voice, “I’m sorry, but who are you and what are you doing in this building?”</p><p>                Kate was aghast. “What am I---? What are you doing in this building?” she demanded, mounting the stairs to be on the same level as the trespassers. “I’m Kate Bishop and this is where I <em>live</em>. And if you don’t want me to call security, I would suggest you get out of here, now.”</p><p>                Despite Kate’s best effort, the woman seemed only slightly intimidated. She gave a condescending laugh. “I’m sorry, whoever you are, but I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish with that statement. I know that Katherine Bishop has been dead for 5 years. Her father told me himself that she was among those who turned to dust on that tragic day.” She must have seen the confusion and despair on Kate’s face, but misinterpreted it as she continued, her face softening a little, “I’m sure you’ve gone through many rough things, we all have these days. But you can’t just squat in an abandoned mansion, pretending to be the daughter of a millionaire. I can give you the address to the nearest shelter, if you want it.” At this she shot an apologetic smile to the couple behind her, who were watching the conversation with some unease.</p><p>                “But I’m—I’m not…” Kate honestly didn’t know how to respond to that. “Dead?” she said, demanding some kind of explanation, if not from this woman than from the universe.</p><p>                At that moment, one of the men’s phone rang. He held up one finger and turned away to answer it. The woman kept smiling at Kate, although her eyes were filled with annoyance. The man said “hold on, I’m gonna put you on speaker. Leo, you gotta hear this.”</p><p>                The other man, Leo apparently, turned toward the man with the phone, and soon a voice came out of the phone jubilantly saying, “They’re back! It’s a miracle, everyone is back!”</p><p>                Leo’s jaw fell in disbelief, “What do you mean ‘back?’ what happened?”</p><p>                The person on the other end of the line, it sounded like a young girl, maybe Kate’s age, seemed to have a bit of difficulty containing themselves. “I was just sitting on the couch, looking at the place where Joseph was when he—you know. Just missing him. And suddenly, there he was! In the flesh! He hasn’t aged a day.”</p><p>                Leo looked at the other man with concern, “Sweetie, that’s not possible,” he said into the phone, “Just sit tight, dad and I will be home soon.”</p><p>                “You don’t believe me. Hey, Joseph, you wanna say hi to our dads?” the girl on the phone said.</p><p>                There was a brief moment where both men looked at each other apprehensively, and then a small, childlike voice sounded out. “Hi Dad! Hey Pops! What’s going on? When did Kayla get so big?”</p><p>                Kate and the suit-woman had been listening to this exchange, but at that moment they both had the decency to turn away as the men’s eyes began to fill with tears. They both gripped the phone and began speaking to the child on the other end.</p><p>                The woman made eye contact with Kate, and realization seemed to dawn on her. She quickly pulled out her own phone and searched for something. Kate shifted her weight, confused, uncomfortable, and tired. Really all she wanted was to go to bed, in the back of her mind she felt that all of this was some messed up dream.</p><p>                Then she saw a picture of her face. The woman had pulled up a news article on her phone, and Kate’s picture was part of the header. She stared at it, then at the woman, understanding that she knew Kate hadn’t been trying to impersonate anybody. She was about to demand more explanation when she saw the title of the article.</p><p>                Bishop Mourns Death of Wife Shortly After Loss of Daughter</p><p>                <em>Death of Wife…?</em></p><p>“What happened to my mom?” Kate asked in a whisper.</p><p>               </p>
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